


Cotton Love

by Talimee



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Band-Aid ficlet for all in dire need of fluff, Finns roughing it with rice-crispies, Fluff, Hugs, Kisses, M/M, Slice of Life, diabetes-inducing levels of fluff, did I mention Slice of Life?, now featuring marshmallow fluff, old loved sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-10 05:37:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7832437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talimee/pseuds/Talimee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chapter 1: Lalli surreptitiously obtains something Emil is only to happy to give.<br/>Chapter 2: Someting has to be done about those rice-crispies.<br/>Chapter 3: Their love is in the Here and Now, something you cannot press like a flower.<br/>Chapter 4: Out in the woods, the tables are turned.<br/>Chapter 5: Their place is for them alone, but not all additions are unwelcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Squickqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squickqueen/gifts).



> Kiraly posted some ideas/prompts on tumblr and one of them struck me like a brick from the past. =')

Title: Cotton Love

Characters: Emil Västerström, Lalli Hotakainen

Pairing: Emil/Lalli

Setting: Alternate Universe (modern times)

Rating: PG

Warnings: None

Tags: fluff, hugs, established relationship, slice of life

 

~*~

 

“What do you mean: 'Where is my uniform'?” Emil takes the dish-towel hanging over his shoulder and stares incredulously at Lalli while wiping his hands. “You're off duty, now. You don't have to wear it.”

You don't have to wear anything, the Swede adds in the privacy of his mind as his eyes steal appreciative looks over Lalli's freshly showered form. The bit that is actually visible under the cloak the Finn has fabricated out of the biggest towel he found in Emil's tiny bathroom. Everything is tiny here, Emil is painfully aware of it, but Lalli doesn't seem to mind.

“I put it in the laundry”, he adds when it becomes apparent that Lalli is waiting for an answer. “It was sweaty and soaked.”

With a grateful nod the Finn turns around and walks back into Emil's (tiny) living-room slash bedroom, where they have just spend the last hours. Emil follows him as soon as he realizes the error they have both made.

“Not the laundry-sack”, he says as he reaches the living-room, seeing Lalli poke around with a foot under the bed. “It's already washed and on the clothes-line in the attic. It's still too wet to wear.” He adds as if thinking that his boyfriend will climb up into the attic in just his bathroom-attire.

“What am I going to wear?” Lalli asks in his whispery voice.

Emil's brows knit together and he vaguely gestures to the (tiny) apartment entrance hall. Somewhere in that jumble of coats, boots and umbrellas is the backpack Lalli had brought along yesterday. “Don't you have spare clothes in your bag?”

“No.”

“What?!”

“Only rice-crispies, briefs and socks.”

For a moment Emil is dumbfounded by the inner screeching his thoughts do as they grind to a halt: Lalli came for a sleep-over and only brought “… rice-crispies?” Talk about Finns and roughing it up. Then he blushes furiously as he realizes that Lalli may not have expected to have to dress himself at all before leaving for work again tomorrow afternoon.

“Erm … just let me take a look if I have any spares”, he squeaks and turns to his (enormous) wardrobe. Some old sweatpants are quickly found. They sit very low on Lalli's hips but he doesn't seem to mind. Emil doesn't either, although his hands twitch whenever his eyes stray downwards to were the waistband sits just shy over Lalli's buttocks. A shirt however … The search for something suitable is brought up short as Lalli sneaks his arm around Emil's shoulders and hones in on a garishly red-and-yellow lump in Emil's sweater compartment.

“Really?”, Emil asks doubtfully as Lalli shakes the hooded sweater out and holds it up for inspection. It is an old relic from Emil's chubby teenager years, at least three sizes too big for Lalli and adorned in the colours and emblem of Mora's Icehockey Club, which Emil had supported for all his childhood and teenager years. The sweater had been his prize possession. It is worn now, the cuffs frayed and on the left side is a rip where it was caught on a door handle. Without a second thought Lalli scrambles into it, snuggling himself into the fabric and looking at Emil with smiling eyes. He is dwarfed by the garment and Emil feels a soft flutter in his chest, seeing his beloved wrapped in fabric he himself has worn for so long. It is like a loving embrace by proxy.

Lifting his hands, which are completely concealed in the too-long arms, to his nose Lalli closes his eyes and draws a deep breath.

“Really”, he answers and walks over to Emil to hug him.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something has to be done about those rice-crispies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably should put a warning up: This chapter is *exactly* like rice-crispies - overly sweet and empty of anything nutricious. Sorry, but not sorry, if you get problems with your blood-sugar reading this. ;D

Emil blinks. Then he turns his head towards Lalli with a look that, hopefully, conveys all the incredulousness and puzzlement he feels, because in no way will he say what just goes through his mind. The blank expression on Lalli's face tells him, however, that his boyfriend either does not understand what Emil is broadcasting or that he intents to take his joke oh so much further. Emil turns back to the two bulging sacks of cereal lying on his kitchen counter. Without being able to prevent it his hands reach out and softly poke into what is, for all it's worth, two plastic pillows filled with puffed rice. He shakes himself and turns back to Lalli who watches him with a raised eyebrow.

“Is that really your favourite food?”

“Yes.”

Emil half turns and rests his hip against the counter. He tries not to think about the festive meal he has envisioned when planning Lalli's stay – something elegant and sophisticated, exotic and delicious or at least something to go with the starters and the dessert he has already planned and bought the ingrediences for. He uses the moment he needs to accommodate to this new situation to brush some unruly hair from Lalli's forehead.

“Why?!”

Now it is Lalli's turn to look perplexed. He withdraws his arms from the sweater's and crosses them over his chest, leaving the empty cotton tubes hanging at his side. Emil takes them into his hands and half-consciously starts to tie them into a knot. “I mean, isn't that a bit unhealthy and boring?”, he clarifies his outburst. He doesn't want Lalli to think he is judging his eating habits (much). Lalli just shrugs and carefully extends his hands into the sweater arms again, untying the knot in doing so.

“It's fast. And sweet. It's not sandwiches.” Which apparently were the main food stuffs in Lalli's household since he moved to live with two elder cousins a few years ago. Sandwiches and cup noodles.

“I can see that”, Emil confirms and looks back at the crispies and at his shopping basket. “Guess there is no way around it – we have to go shopping.”

On cue Lalli's brows come down.

“Only for groceries”, Emil tries to placate the youth and is rewarded with an annoyed huff. “It'll be short”, Emil promises and takes Lalli's hands into his own and places two small kisses on them. As always, he is thrilled that Lalli's allows him to do that. “And we need milk for the crispies – cereal without milk is sad cereal.”

“If we must …”, the Finn concedes and lets himself be guided into the living room where Emil hurridly digs up an old pair of jeans which are the last remnant of slimmer days (although still too wide for Lalli – but what isn't?!) and which Emil has given up of ever reaching again. Not that there is anything wrong with that, he reminds himself. He is healthy, he is fit and he is very well done with this dieting crap. When he returns from changing in the bathroom and gathering his basket and wallet he grins when he finds his boyfriend standing in the corridor and absentmindedly picking fluff out of the sweater's front pocket.

“You ready to go?”

Lalli nods resigned. On a whim Emil sets everything down and gathers Lalli in his arms.

“Thank you for coming with me to the grocer.” He kisses Lalli's forehead and burrows his nose into the Finn's unruly hair. After a second he feels two thin arms gingerly wrap around his waist, hugging him back.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their love is in the Here and Now, something you cannot press like a flower.

The moment the door clicks shut behind Emil's parents' backs Lalli's rigid form seems to melt into the sofa and he lets himself flow deeper into the cushions. Emil has to smile at his boyfriend's obvious relief that their visitors have gone and snuggles deeper into his armchair as well. As much as he would prefer to curl up next to Lalli he knows better. Half a day of visitors have without doubt depleted the Finn's reservoirs for social interaction if his fidgeting during the last hour was any indication.

Better let him have some space, Emil thinks, and wonders how and when he shall bring up a matter of great importance to their respective families. He knows Lalli will not like talking about it, let alone do it, but Emil can understand their families' wishes and secretly agrees to them.

Well, better get over it now, than ruin a happy moment later.

“Lalli”, he opens and sees his boyfriend perk up. “My parents have had a talk with me. So have Onni and Tuuri.”

Emil is not sure but he thinks he can hear Lalli mutter something ungracious about interfering relatives and cousins in particular. “Is it about the pictures again?”, he asks sullenly.

“Yes.”

“Ugh.”

“My parents even bought a couple of frames, so that we don't have to bother.” Emil rummages shortly in a paper bag next to his chair, which once held the cake and cookies his parents had brought with them, and extracts two silver-plated picture frames. Lalli does not even deign him with an answer this time but eyes the ornate frames with wary mistrust.

“Come on, it's not that horrible”, Emil wheedles but they had this conversation a few times already and he knows by now that Lalli absolutely hates being photographed. Emil hasn't even managed to find out why his friend is so strictly against it. If he knew why, Emil is sure, he could arrange for a situation that puts Lalli at ease – but no such luck. Whenever their families ask about a photo (in case of Onni and Tuuri more like Undeniable Evidence for the unbelievers in their town) Lalli just clams up until Emil drops the subject.

Grabbing his notebook, Emil stands up and walks over to the couch, sitting down on the floor in front of it.

“Let's see if I have some usable photos on my hard drive”, he says. There might be. If some unknown photographer had managed to bedazzle Lalli long enough for him to hold still for a minute in front of a lens. You never knew. And people have seen pigs fly.

Some rustling behind and above him announces Lalli's shift in position on the couch and immediately after his boyfriend's pointy chin pokes into his shoulder. Emil leans his head against Lalli's cheek and closes his eyes. This is nice, he thinks and starts to relax. The day has been long and tedious so far and playing host to his parents and trying to keep Lalli away from as much bother as possible has taken a lot of energy. This is the first true moment of serenity he has had all day.

“You should clean up your desktop”, Lalli says softly after a few more seconds and after he has surveyed the (organized, as Emil insists upon) mess of folders and files which litter the desktop so much that the picture in the background is nearly completely obliterated.

“It's organized. If I move stuff around I'll never find it again”, Emil answers in a drowsy voice and opens his eyes with a deep sigh. He would rather climb up on the couch and cuddle with Lalli than click through the hundreds of photographs he has saved. “Okay, let's see what we can find.”

They find a lot. A lot of landscapes, actually, and interesting architecture and interesting plays of light and shadow on architectural landscapes. After a quarter of an hour Emil gets the nagging feeling that he probably should have studied Architecture after all. Or Art History. But instead he had opted for job security and now is just another lab assistant, dreaming of breaking out like all those lab animals they, thank goodness, don't have any more. Granted, they find a few photographs of Lalli – all awkward pose and scowling eyes – and some of Emil as well.

“You could photoshop them together”, Lalli offers and shifts his weight on Emil's shoulder which has started to hurt a bit.

“No.”

„Then take that one“, Lalli says and points to a photograph which shows them both standing in front of an ornate fountain in Italy.

„I most certainly will not“, Emil answers in mock indignation. „You're wearing sunglasses that cover half your face and the slogan on your shirt says: Hell is Other People!“ And I'm wearing shorts!, Emil thinks in horror. But temperatures above 30°C call for desperate measures.

“I don't like people”, Lalli says, sounding slightly annoyed that he has to repeat such an obvious fact to Emil who should know better.

The answer falls nearly automatically from Emil's lips: “You're a charming human being who likes having friends and family – if not around all the time”, he adds when Lalli twitches up a sceptical eyebrow. The light-grey eyes watching him twinkle with a hint of disagreement as Lalli reaches across to the coffee table, takes the last cookie and rolls back into the sofa cushions.

With a sigh Emil snaps the notebook shut and lets his head falls backwards. He stares blindly up to the ceiling before Lalli's hand slides into his view and places half a cookie on Emil's forehead. He reaches up gingerly and thoughtfully eats the crumbling coconut cookie.

“Is that the reason?”, he asks when he has finished and clarifies: “You don't like being around strangers and that's why you don't want to be photographed?”

“Mrr.”

“That's a little monosyllabic, y'know.”

A sigh above him. “I hate being in strange confined places, I hate being among strangers, I hate being stared at. A photographer's studio is a small, strange room where a stranger gawks at me.” Lalli sounds as if he ticking off a mental list.

"Hm." Now it is Emil’s turn to answer in monosyllables. He does so because he would like to say a great deal; for example how he wishes to have one good photograph of Lalli, just one, to take out and smile at and maybe talk to when Lalli is away. Just one picture of his love where Lalli does not wear a forced smile like he was constipated or secretly wishing to be on a remote island instead. Only one good image of them both, young, beautiful, and in love, preserved forever; a memory of a golden youth in the cold days of old age to come.

He dearly wishes he could convince Lalli that this one effort was worth the trouble. But Emil knows that even the attempt to talk to Lalli about this would result in him feeling cornered and uneasy and guilt-ridden. And that is the last thing Emil wants.

"We’ll take the Italian photograph”, he decides. A little sigh from above tells him about Lalli's relief.

Emil half turns, takes Lalli’s arm and drapes it over his shoulder and chest. Fingers entwine with his and he presses one small kiss onto the limb before re-opening his notebook and starting up a film they have on their watch-list. After a few minutes he can feel Lalli shuffling closer to the sofa's edge, curling around Emil's shoulders and surrounding him with his warmth and smell.

Emil's head falls back to rest against Lalli's chest. He smiles, falling deeper and deeper into a sleepy calm as he feels every breath Lalli takes.

This is what he wants.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out in the woods, the tables are turned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the sorry excuse of a summary. XD And for the pointlessness below. Hope you enjoy!

„There's Venus“, Emil hears Lalli say softly behind his back as they wade through the sandy shallows of the lake shore. He turns back, index-finger wriggling in his ear in vain hope to dislodge a surplus of lake-water he feels there, and walks back in to where his boyfriend is standing and pointing past the trees which surround the lake like a thick green beard. Elms and Willows, Lalli has called them, but as far as Emil is concerned he is just glad for the cover they provide from onlookers on the nearby hiking path.

“There”, Lalli says again and points as Emil reaches him. Emil pretends to look, and sees the small star poking out of the greenery, but his attention is soon drawn to the goosebumps rising all over Lalli's arms and shoulders. The air has grown considerably colder since sundown, much colder than the lake's water which plays lukewarm around their hips. He slides his arms around Lalli's arms, pressing the lithe Finn against him and kisses his moist and prickly skin.

“Let's get you somewhere warmer”, he murmurs huskily, before tightening his hold on his boyfriend and throwing them both to the side. An enraged shriek is the last thing he hears before the water closes over his grinning face.

Five minutes of vicious dunking follow, one youth trying to topple the other, before they chase each other out of the water, back to their small camp side and the pile of clothes they have left there.

“We shouldn't have stayed so long in the water”, Emil states as they struggle their wet limbs into sweat pants and flannel shirts. “It's almost too dark to see without a fire.”

“You were the one throwing us back in”, Lalli objects but Emil waves him off.

“That doesn't count.” He grins and skips over to his boyfriend, pressing his lips to the cold tip of Lalli's nose before the Finn leans away and bends down to retrieve their flash-light.

“There is enough deadwood here to start a fire. And we can collect more once it's properly burning”, Lalli says.

“Yup.”

Lalli is right, of course, but Emil is not surprised. He has long ceased to be so because Lalli, he has decided in the privacy of his mind and upon witnessing the amazing breadth of knowledge and craftiness Lalli displays whenever he is out of the city, has to be part Finn and part wood-sprite. He had chosen this camp-site at a quick glance, noticing the old fire-place and the neatly stacked deadwood next to it where Emil's city-eyes had only seen tick-infested underbrush.

So the Swede contends himself with the role of hunch-backed assistant as he gathers wood and carries it over, only shrieking once as his naked foot steps on a slug (but shuddering in revulsion for several minutes after) and finally gets a nice little fire going. Instantly, the evening appears a lot brighter and warmer and camping looses a tiny bit of its adversity, as long as Emil isn't thinking about elks and bears.

“At least there are no wolves this far south”, Lalli says and Emil is sure he sees an evil glint in his boyfriend's eyes before he has to screw his own shut.

“Don't jinx it!”, he hisses.

“But there's always mangy foxes …“

“No.”

“… wild dogs …”

“Please.”

“… hyenas …”

“Sto – what?” Emil looks up to see Lalli staring serenely into the fire, slowly roasting the lump of dough he has stuck on the end of a long twig.

“Yes, hyenas. Haven't you heard? They broke out of the Stockholm Zoo somewhere in the 60s. A small pack with a pregnant alpha-female. They have been roaming the woods around Stockholm ever since then, always managing to give the slip to hunters.”

Emil gives him a long stare, hoping against hope to convey utter unbelief. “You're pulling my leg”, he says and winces as he hears some rustling in the thickets beyond the small circle of firelight. To distract himself he pokes around the fire and pushes their tin-foil-wrapped potatoes deeper between the embers.

“Believe what you want”, Lalli says calmly and shrugs. “Only some Hippies broke into the Zoo destroying all fences and trying some stupid shit like freeing all wild animals – only they were savaged when they came upon the pack's leader.” He lifts his stick away from the flames and pulls cautiously at the bread on it, popping a piece into his mouth as he deems it properly baked. “Hyenas are very intelligent animals with a firm social structure. They can survive in the African steppe – so southern Sweden is easy for them.”

“Still not believing you”, Emil singsongs.

“Y'know”, Lalli continues while kneading a new load of dough onto his stick, “sometime in the 70's they stopped trying to catch the animals and told every hunter to kill them on sight.”

Emil bites himself on the lips to stop himself of asking why. Lalli continues nevertheless.

“Because of the bodies. Two men, hikers like us, were found – not that far from here, maybe a day's travel, as the hyena runs – and I say _found_ although there was only one hand and one half-eaten skull left of them.”

“God, I hate you!”, Emil groans and buries his head in his arms. “Don't you dare complain when I crawl in with you tonight because some stupid hedgehog is snuffling around the tent!” Try as he might he cannot shake the feeling of invisible eyes all around in the Hazel thickets, staring at him malevolently. The is a prickling along his back.

“Stop that, Lalli!”, he hisses but cannot suppress a violent shudder.

Instead of taking his hand away, Lalli slides his arm around Emil's waist and snuggles up to him.

“I will protect you”, he whispers smugly and Emil practically hears the smirk. A sideways glance confirms it; Lalli's grey eyes twinkle with amusement. But there is a good deal of affection there as well so Emil leans into the hug.

“With your tiny knife?”, he asks playfully. He can see the puukko lying on the ground next to Lalli's feet. The handle is dark with age and there is a slight inwards curve on the blade's edge from repeated sharpening. Compared with Emil's Swiss Army Knife, which he uses to open beer-bottles and clip his fingernails, Lalli's knife looks like a real weapon.

“Yes”, Lalli says simply and moves away to hand Emil his own stick and the bowl of bread-dough.

They sit and watch the fire in silent harmony. After they have eaten, they take to the lake again, Lalli pointing out the Great Bear and the Pole Star to him. And after that they crawl into their tent, sharing mattress and blankets as has been their plan all along. When they finally succumb to sleep the nightingales in the bushes have long since stopped singing.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their place is for them alone, but not all additions are unwelcome.

The last staircase is always the worst, Emil knows, but that still doesn't help to keep his exhaustion at bay when he climbs up the last six – five – four steps to their flat. Suitcase in one hand, his jacket wedged between armpit and side, is his free hand fishing around for the keys in his pocket, while behind him Lalli is trudging along, looking every part like an overgrown schoolchild with a rucksack on his back and absorbed in the act of cleaning out a 200g glass of Marshmallow fluff.

The spoon is scraping over the bottom of the glass just as Emil inserts the key into the look and pushes the door to their flat open with a sigh of relief. As much as he loves going abroad – and spending more time than usual with Lalli – coming back home is still a wonderful thing.

“Finally home!”, Emil exhales, dropping suitcase, jacket and keys once he has stepped far enough into the corridor for Lalli to follow and close the door behind him. He is already halfway through toeing off his shoes when he notices that Lalli is still barely inside the flat and looking warily along the hallway and into the adjoining rooms as far as it is possible.

 _Oh dear_ , Emil thinks and takes a step towards his boyfriend. He himself has not noticed anything strange but Lalli's reaction, who is infinitely more in touch with his surroundings, does not surprise Emil. He opens his arms invitingly but Lalli skirts briskly around him and quickly walks down the hall into the kitchen. Emil can hear the chink of glass on wood and shortly thereafter Lalli exits the room again, looking shaken and _very_ ill at ease.

“There are dishes in the sink”, he whispers. “There is a weird plant next to Basil. The post is not on the sideboard. _Everything smells wrong!_ ” His voice starts to shake and Emil is quick to pull him to his chest. This time, Lalli lets himself be held and burrows his nose into Emil's sweater, breathing deep and fast until he has regained a bit of control.

All the while Emil continues to stroke Lalli's back, making soothing noises while his thoughts race.

He shouldn't have let his cousins stay here while they were gone on holiday!

But he would have never agreed to their idea if Lalli had not explicitly said that he was okay with it!

But this is certainly _not okay!_

Maybe Lalli is more exhausted by their journey home than he lets on?

And Emil needs to find a new home for a potted plant now … Maybe one of the neighbours had room for an orphaned plant. He'll chalk it up to his _Bad Luck With Plants_ when calling his cousins next time.

Then Emil remembers, that he made all three of them swear on the grave of their favourite childhood pets that they would not use the bedroom or even open the door before handing them the spare keys. Anna had to swear twice.

“Do you want to go to the bedroom?”, he asks Lalli quietly. It'll be dark and quiet there, and – as Emil fervently hopes – without any unfamiliar scents to disturb his partner.

Lalli nods at this suggestion but shakes his head immediately afterwards and then hesitates. “Can I have your sweater?”, he asks instead and Emil cannot fight the little feeling of pride and the broad grin it brings with it.

He still smiles when Lalli has finished scrambling into the thick jumper before turning around and starting the work necessary to make the flat feel like theirs again. Lalli, arms withdrawn into the sweater's sleeves and the neck-line pulled up over his nose, pads after Emil, correcting small details only he notices while the Swede opens windows, shakes out pillows, sorts the mail and rinses the two left-over coffee mugs in the sink. When he has put the dried cups back into the closet and turns around to hang up the dish-towel he catches Lalli carefully poking the new potted plant this way and that on the window sill until it, apparently, reaches a pleasing position for him.

“This is Thyme”, Lalli says to Emil once he has snuggled up next to him at the sink.

“Do you think they'll be friends?”, Emil asks jokingly.

Lalli's answer is a coy little smile.

 

Later, entwined and exhausted, they lie in the living-room and listen to the familiar sounds of their house and their neighbourhood – each enjoying the silence between them and the noise outside in their own special way. When the sun has sunk, however, stars appear that have never been there before. Not outside, _inside_.

“... glow-in-the-dark …”, Emil whispers, flustered at the unexpected view of the Great Bear and Cassiopeia on his summer living room ceiling, before glancing over to Lalli to gauge his reaction, praying that his cousins' prank has not upset him.

Clear grey eyes meet his with a warm shine before returning to the view overhead. “They can stay”, Lalli whispers.

 

 


End file.
